


The Last Emperor of Adrestia

by Hazmat10



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazmat10/pseuds/Hazmat10
Summary: In the aftermath of the Oath of the Dagger, the Blue Lions take a moment to mourn for a fallen enemy.
Relationships: Dimitri/Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	The Last Emperor of Adrestia

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters, names or places. That’s all Nintendo.

Traditionally, the Emperor of Adrestia was expected to depart the mortal realm in nothing shy of the grandest of state funerals. Days of public mourning commemorated by the minting of special coins followed by processions, eulogies and performances before the deceased would be cremated and their successor could take their place. The pyre itself was made as ornate and ostentatious as humanly possible, raised in the center of Enbarr for all of their subjects to witness their splendor for the final time

But Adrestia was no more. 

Dimitri had seen to it personally. 

Instead of swelling crowds of mourners, the funeral of Edelgard von Hresvelg, was attended only by the eight former members of the Blue Lions class, and their former professor at the Officer’s Academy. 

The representatives from the Church of Seiros had chosen to excuse themselves. Dimitri could not find it in himself to fault them for it. Too much bad blood there. He doubted Edelgard would have appreciated their presence either way. 

The remnants of the Golden Deer class were scattered in the aftermath of Gronder Field and the subsequent dissolution of the Alliance. The nobles were likely busy tending to their respective holdings while the commoners had returned to their towns and villages, seeking to be with those they cared for amidst uncertain times. Claude and Hilda had disappeared. Rumors claimed they were last seen crossing Fodland’s Locket. Dimitri felt that particular mystery was better left for another day.

Instead of the finest birch and oak imported from Dagda and Brigid for the pyre, they had to make due with spirit soaked wood splintered and broken from furniture in the Imperial Palace. Nonetheless Annette had assured him that that the fire would burn hot and for long enough that only ash would remain. As much as he would have liked to arrange a burial with full honors, time and political realities were not on his side. 

It would incense the citizens of Fargheus and the former Alliance to see their King grieving for a fallen enemy. They cared naught for his feelings towards her. To them, she was a tyrant, whose troops had brought conflict and suffering upon them. They would not see the nobility in her ideals while they starved in their villages, were preyed upon by bandits and had their family members conscripted to die on the frontlines. Holding a public ceremony was asking for more unrest in a land simmering with tension and filled with people still reeling from the war that Edelgard had unleashed. 

There was also the question of her remains. 

Although they had driven off the black mages who had turned her into the monstrosity confronted in the throne room, there was no guarantee that they were vanquished, nor that they would not return to try and steal her corpse for further experimentation or other foul sorcery. 

Additionally, entombing her in a physical grave gave Imperial loyalists a shrine to rally around, while also providing her detractors with an opportunity to desecrate her resting place. Since Dimitri could never abide such an ignoble fate for his former friend, a quick cremation in a courtyard at the apex of the imperial palace would have to suffice. 

The mood was subdued, not helped by the dark, rumbling sky overhead, obscuring what was left of the setting sun. Even so, it was still easy to spot the plumes of thick black smoke curling upwards from distant flames throughout Enbarr. Grim reminders that while the war was technically over, the fighting was far from it. Even now, Kingdom troops were hard pressed to uphold order in the occupied city. Riots raged throughout the outlying districts as Imperial loyalists clashed with the more belligerent members of the city’s underclasses in the streets. Old grudges were being rekindled and old scores were being settled. Until these problems were dealt with, attempts to distribute aid to the civilians and repatriate displaced refugees would be impossible. 

Dimitri knew his officers were eager to return to their units and resume their peacekeeping efforts. But when the professor had suggested a moment of reprieve to send off their old schoolmate, none of them objected. He knew that they were here more for his and for their professor’s sake than out of any genuine affection for the late Emperor, but he appreciated their presence nonetheless. 

He had lost track of the time he had spent rooted in place, taking in the sight of his former friend. His stepsister. His first love. Her face still and pale. Eyes that were once brimming with intelligence and deep, inscrutable emotion were now closed, never to open again. Mercedes had done her best to make Edelgard presentable, cleaning her and garbing her in the most respectable dress they had found in the imperial quarters. But Dimitri could almost see the wound that he had left on her. Could still feel the resistance against his arm as he pushed Areadbhar into her torso. 

His shoulder still ached. 

He never wanted it to end like this.

He stirred when he realized someone was calling his name. He looked up to see the professor gazing at him, concerned. How different she was now from when they had first met. Once she might have observed the funeral of even a close friend with nary the bat of an eyelash. But now her eyes glistened with unshed tears and the quivering of her lips betrayed how shaken she was. Dimitri knew that the loss of El grieved her as much as it did him. But she did not break. If she could hold herself together for the duration of this wake, then he would as well. 

“Dimitri...I think it’s time,” the professor whispered.

His voice seemed to catch in his throat on its way up, so he could only nod in reply. He knew he had drawn this out for long enough. They had to conclude this before the rain fell in earnest, lest the wood become damp and fail to burn. 

He stepped forward and at once the attendees seemed to snap out of their own respective revelry and turned to him. It seemed he was not the only one who had lost themself to reminiscence. He doubted Edelgard had interacted frequently with any of them, but even so he supposed that they would have their own memories of her. Their own what-ifs. Their own regrets. 

Dimitri cleared his throat and began, ignoring how dry his mouth suddenly felt.

“My friends, thank you for being here. I cannot say it is easy to mourn the death of an enemy. But for a brief period of time, she was our schoolmate, our friend, and there is no one else left to commemorate her. The least we can do is take the time to pay her the proper respects and to remember her, not as Emperor of Adrestia, but as Edelgard.”

He paused, looking at the people gathered in front of him. He hoped that his classmates would someday look upon her if not with kindness, then at least with understanding.

“It would be an injustice to those who have fallen to say that Edelgard did no wrong.”

They needed no reminding. But he did anyway. To reassure them that he was not lost in his sentimentality for her. 

“It would also be an injustice to her. She had no illusions as to the evil she was perpetrating or the lives she was ending. I cannot speak for her, but I suspect she knew that there would be no atonement for her actions.”

She had admitted as much during their last conversation.

“She did them anyway. She chose her path and she walked it to the very end, not because she was greedy or power hungry. These motivations would be easy for us to accept. But I feel we must acknowledge...that she did these things because in her own way, she was fighting for what she thought was right.”

He tried to keep the statement mild, but he still saw some of the Lions flinch. They had all lost friends and family to her. Had seen their homes invaded by her. She may as well have been an irredeemable monster to them. Felix in particular scowled, but held his tongue.

“She was wronged, in so many ways by this system of crests and the burdens of nobility that have similarly harmed many of us.”

Ingrid winced.

“In her grief and her pain she sought to tear it all down, consequences be damned.” 

Sylvain closed his eyes.

“That does not excuse her actions. She had a choice. She has caused unfathomable suffering, and Fodland will bear the scars of her actions for many, many years to come.” 

Dimitri looked down at his hands. Recalled how they looked stained with blood. Felt his wound twinge again.

He would bear the scars as well. 

“But perhaps someday we can build a new Fodland. One where nobody will suffer the way that she did. Together.”

He glanced over at the professor, who was watching him with rapt attention, her expression now more resolute, even if her eyes were still wet and her lips still trembled. She caught his gaze and nodded in encouragement. 

Oh how he loved her. 

How could he not? She had saved him, convinced him to live on when he could do anything but. 

He had loved El when they were children. Her energy and her brilliance attracting him to her, driving him to impress her, to earn her favor. But he had never felt for anyone the way he now felt for his former teacher. She had seen the worst in him but had chosen to stand by him nonetheless. As his chief strategist, his confidant, and his friend. He hoped dearly that someday she would be willing to stand by him as his wife. He promised himself he would find the courage to say as much to her sometime soon.

“We owe it to those who perished, to live on and to ensure that their sacrifices meant something. But we will not do it the way she did. We will not trample upon those weaker than ourselves. We will not use people as pawns in some grand game.”

He looked at his Lions, the people he owed so much to. Who had fought for him unwaveringly, even when he was a rabid beast undeserving of their loyalty. He knew that he was still undeserving of it. 

“We will not lose sight of what matters. Those we love, our friends, our families. We will trust that people can change for the better and we will take it upon ourselves to offer them the opportunity and to show them how.” 

“Edelgard may have been our enemy. But she was never a monster. I hope wherever she is, that she rests in peace.”

There, he thought. That should suffice as far as on the spot eulogies go.

He hoped El would not think too poorly of him. He could almost hear her voice critiquing his delivery. He wondered if he would hear her later. Her laughter resonating with his stepmother’s. Her screams and cries blending with Lambert’s. Her dying whimpers alongside Glenn’s. Would he see her? A haughty expression framed by her silky, silver hair in a mirror as he walked by? Or would he only glimpse a flash of her out of the corner of his eye? The brown pigtails of a little girl streaming in her wake. Giggling the way she did when young Dimitri had made a fool of himself in front of her. 

Nothing new there, he mused. If she wanted to haunt him, she would have to get in line. 

Dimitri stepped forward and lay a flower across Edelgard’s chest. A gladiolus. A symbol of remembrance. He took the moment to look down upon her face for the last time. 

“El...”, he murmured. “How I wish you would have reached back. I know you had to cut your own path, but I’m sorry it had to end this way. I’m sorry I was blind to how much pain you were in. I’m sorry I did not reach out sooner.”

He could feel the telltale stinging behind his eye. He hoped his friends would not judge him too harshly for shedding tears over her. 

He felt someone grip his shoulder and a slender hand entered his vision to lay a flower alongside his. 

“You were one of the brightest students I have ever had the privilege of teaching,” the professor said to her, “and one of the bravest people I have ever met. I have failed you, my student.”

“I’m sorry I could not save you.” 

Spurred on by their professors' example, one by one the Blue Lions stepped forward to lay their own flowers and say their own farewells. Some were curt, given only out of courtesy and consideration for the professor and Dimitri. 

“Rest in peace.” 

“May the Goddess have mercy on your soul.”

Some were sad. 

“I wish we could have been better friends”.

Some were even sympathetic 

“You did what you thought was right. I cannot fault you for that”

“We’ll make the world better, I promise.”

Some stayed silent.

Having said what they needed to say, the Lions stepped back and watched as the professor grasped a torch from its mount on the wall and lowered it to the kindling. Flames sprouted, then roared as the magic infused accelerant ignited and engulfed the pyre. The heat radiating from the blaze was intense. Even several paces back some of them began to fidget from discomfort.

Dimitri could do nothing but stare. How surreal it was. In the years he had been exiled, Edelgard had seemed some unstoppable force. A villain fit only to be slain, her head claimed as a trophy to appease the ghosts only he could see. Yet when he had witnessed first hand the grotesque husk that she had morphed into, he had felt only pity. It turned out that even the most heinous of villains were a lot less frightening and a lot more sad up close. 

Now, watching the flames take her away, he felt only grief. He saw only El. The girl who had taught him to dance. So petulant in her boredom. So dazzling in her brilliance. Gone. 

But, Dimitri reflected, that girl had been gone for years. Whatever had happened to her upon her return to Enbarr had taken her away from him long before their time at the Academy. She herself had said so. 

The thought did little to ease his anguish. 

He felt the professor take his hand in hers, and felt her lay her head upon his shoulder. He knew that if he turned his gaze towards her, he would see the tears flow freely down her beautiful, angular face. He was unsure if her proximity was meant to comfort him or to derive comfort from him but he appreciated it either way. 

If she had not been there for him, had chosen Claude or Edelgard, would it have been over his corpse that she would be crying instead? How differently things could have ended.

If he had reached out to Edelgard sooner would she have joined him? Spared the continent this war? Or was her fate set in stone, the end goal of machinations from forces unseen? The nobles and the church and the ones who lurk in shadows all playing their grand games, while the rest of them were just pieces being moved on some vast, unknowable board. 

If he had been the one who lost, would Edelgard have mourned for him, the way he now mourned for her? He knew that he would never know the answers to these questions. He was unsure if he really wanted to.

In their own way, Dimitri saw each of his Lions grieve. With bowed heads and tears shed. Muttered prayers and promises. If not for Edelgard, then for others who should have been there. 

For Ferdinand, who gave his life defending the Great Bridge of Myrddin. 

For Bernadetta, killed in action at Gronder Field.

For Caspar and Linhardt, slain in the siege of Fort Merceus.

For Dorothea, Petra and even Hubert, cut down in the streets of Enbarr. 

All of them were bitter enemies, fighting till their last breath for Edelgard’s cause. All of them were dear friends. All of them were sorely missed. 

Together, Dimitri, the Professor and the Blue Lions watched on, the flickering tongues of flame reflected in their eyes until they had burned themselves out and there was nothing left of the last Emperor of Adrestia. 

As the attendees turned to leave, the darkened sky flashed and roared, finally letting loose a torrent over the palace, carrying away the ashes and dust into the drains and gutters and eventually, out onto the streets far below. 

The downpour continued long after the attendees had departed, dousing distant flames and drowning the city in what seemed like a flood of tears, as though the Goddess herself was weeping.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this scene in my head ever since finishing the Azure Moon route on Three Houses, and decided to do my best to transcribe it. I probably didn’t do it justice, but I hope you get some enjoyment out of reading it. Constructive criticism and comments are always welcome.


End file.
